


Blowing with the wind

by sorb_aucup



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 00:27:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7337233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorb_aucup/pseuds/sorb_aucup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ludwig thinks it started with Alfred doing the Charleston. 1920s to 90s glimpses of Ludwig meeting Alfred.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blowing with the wind

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Der Wind der Veränderung](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/210247) by Vogelbeere. 



> It's Hetalia rare ship week!  
> This one's my two cents, no prompt, GerAme.  
> (It's part of a slow burn one shot series I wrote more than a year ago that failed to become a romance. So. Friendship or more, depends on what you'd like it to be :))  
> Historical stuff in here: Golden Twenties / crisis years in Germany; Berlin Air Bridge; Fall of the Berlin Wall.  
> Other stuff: The Scorpions wrote Wind of Change for the fall of the Berlin Wall

1924

  
Bam bam, One two three four, one two three four.  
Germany laid his sweaty hands on the cool glass of his beer. This summer evening was way too warm for the unrest inside him, the unrest on the roads. Things had already gotten better, Ludwig told himself, things were getting better. The farmers who would be able to bring their hay home soon, but whose wheat would become hard and small. Unrest. Wheat was so important. The farmers who had potatoes, and no shoes, and hunger. The cinema. The soft, crisp dresses, feathers at ladies’ hats, red red lips. Beggars in the street accepting anything, anything, if it was some kind of anything that would bring them food or black market currency. Unrest, but this evening was too beautiful not to enjoy it, not to forget the hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach for a while.  
Enough cuckoo clocks for this day, Ludwig had decided a few hours ago, today he would mix with those without worries in his society. No matter whether anyone could have no worries; no matter who had less to party, no matter what would wait for him at home, no matter what would happen tomorrow - Ludwig’s latest chancellor, who had been chosen just six months after the last one, would definitely show up again, hoping that Ludwig would somehow help. Help reach an agreement with the left-wing people, the right-wing people, the poor, the Entente and America – Oh Goodness!  
Anyway. No matter what, today he was just another citizen of his shiny (chaotic) new republic. And that’s how Ludwig had drifted through Berlin, submerged into the new mass culture of his country. Really, it was so strange, this… many… the fact that all of the sudden and again, technology was developing so quickly. Streetcars. Ludwig could drive in them for hours. Ludwig felt it deep in his veins, everything, the funk, the television, telephones, wires and electricity, reaching everyone. His pulse was different, faster, more nervous, hectic.  
Germany thrived on it, though. So he let himself drift through the warm streets of his capital, stepped on and off streetcars although he didn’t need to, sidestepped a group of American tourists, passed by a few road cafes, breathed the new mood of his people and finally let the smell of coffee and sweet wine and the sound of buoyant music lure him into a building at the end of a row of houses. Here, between men in pinstripe trousers and black and white suits, women in kneelong shirts and dresses that were much too lowly cut at the back, drinks and small tables, a little too much alcohol and a little too much nakedness, he spotted the United States of America.  
Ludwig had leaned back, finally relaxed – he could forget about the cuckoo clocks for a while, and also yesterday, America had come up with his Dawes plan, and Feliciano had found an occupation, so! And just the moment Ludwig thought of America, he saw him.  
Alfred was dancing.  
Well, the music did basically force you to – Ludwig sighed – be in a good mood. And America, who moved his head, stepped forward and backwards, never missing the beat of the saxophones, moved his hips and legs in the carefully ironed trousers, tilted his head, froze his move, and the suddenly stepped backwards, forwards, back, back. He showed everyone in the room what this simple looking dance had been invented for.  
For just dancing. And smiling.  
Oh, it was harder than it looked. Ludwig had tried doing the Charleston several times now – the dance was too fast, too hard, and too, too, well, obscene, as certain people would tell you again and again. Well. Whatever. Ludwig wouldn’t admit having tried, anyway.  
Backwards, forward – Alfred smiled, turned his head while his feet seemed to glide over the dance floor, and his arms went up, always in step. Forward, back, feet together, sidestep, cross-wise, head-turn… Alfred tipped his hat, spun around, and saw Ludwig. America’s mouth shaped a surprised o, and then a word, not heard in the sound of the club, and he winked.  
Germany coughed and almost swallowed his beer, and because he didn’t have a better alternative, he smiled back. Alfred cocked his head and made a prompting gesture with his chin. Come on, come here, join me.  
Ludwig wasn’t sure how he should politely decline. He was bad at this. And Alfred felt like a stranger to him. I’ll sit here, Germany finally signalled with a short nod.  
Alfred seemed a little disappointed, and then he shrugged. If you don’t wanna…  
Ludwig stayed longer than he had intended, although the warm air became more and more heavy and humid. This American was as unusual, as – different – as his steps were, and that was why Ludwig kept watching him dance. Wag knees and hips was a better description there, maybe.

1948

„As if I’d give this guy any more of this territory!“ Alfreds eyes were radiant with anger.  
Ludwig did his very best to say anything sensible and constructive while on the inside, he was at the verge of screaming. “America. I think that Russia is simply pissed off. Insulted. You and Arthur decide about me, and he wasn’t asked, so I guess he wants to show you that you can’t do anything here without asking him. One could have expected that, right? Alfred, stay calm and…”  
“The fuck I can’t do!” Alfred whirled around. „What does he even think, grabbing whole Berlin? Does he want to demonstrate something? Huh? I’m gonna kick his ass back to Moscow!“  
„I am thinking of my people!“, Ludwig shouted, not caring about treading lightly anymore, no matter how lightly he actually should be treading. “What are you planning on doing? You can’t start another – let’s not start another -“  
Alfred stared at him, boiling anger calming down to something more familiar. Finally he said “I have an idea.”  
“Oh God” Ludwig closed his eyes.  
“A really herolike idea! Yeah, dude, let me do this.” An excited grin spread all over America’s face. “Yup, I got a plan. ’M on a mission.“ Alfred adjusted his cap and stormed outside. He turned around another moment, though, and yelled back to Ludwig who still stood in the tent: “Your people will so NOT go to that Commie! We’ll get Berlin back!”  
Ludwig swallowed, a bitter taste in his mouth.  
Alfred’s idea was good, though. Ludwig knew that Alfred loved flying as much as he did ever since the First World War. And when Ludwig saw how bombing planes whirred over Berlin and threw food packets down until Ivan finally huffed, stomped away and started negotiations, Ludwig immediately believed that this had been Alfred’s idea.  
Alfreds face was radiant with happiness. Always the hero. Ludwig sighed another time. But for a moment, he was indeed glad.  
„You can say whatever you want“ Alfred said more serious than usually when he climbed out of his food bomber and energetically let the door bang closed. “I won’t leave you alone. I’ll still need you after all!”  
“Heartwarming”, a German soldier serving in the American military said next to Ludwig.  
Ludwig didn’t answer and looked to the sky, thinking. So he could meet Gilbert some time, here in Berlin, during a border control maybe. That would be nice.

In the evening, Ludwig couldn’t sleep and didn’t feel well and he didn’t want to ask about Gilbert, although he wanted the answers so badly, what is he doing, what does he think, what –  
Ludwig’s room made him feel claustrophobic, so he went to a barack nearby, knowing that Alfred would be there.  
The soldiers were dancing. Ludwig still felt the resentment and the caution of a defeated nation inside him, but all these feelings slowly vanished, the older he got, the more he saw and the more he vomited after waking up from nightmares that had been reality just a short time ago. He didn’t want to judge anyone including himself now. Or to feel anything. But although he didn’t even want to see or hear anything Ludwig stayed where he was because he recognized the tune of the music. And suddenly, after a little too much alcohol, Alfred stood before him, grinning widely, buoyantly bowing, saying “May I?”  
Ludwig sputtered and realized that he didn’t care and said “Yes.“  
Alfred’s grin intensified. “Cool, man.”  
He lead. Ludwig scowled, and let him anyway.  
Step to the left. Ludwig looked at Alfred, who watched him back. To the right. Alfred went faster, two steps to the left. Ludwig immediately followed him. Hestitation would have been weakness. Alfred jumped backwards; Ludwig hadn’t expected that, but his face remained stoic and he followed, pulled at Alfred’s hand and pulled him two steps backwards again although he was supposed to be the lady and submissively keep his hand in Alfred’s. Alfred glared, but his eyes sparkled too much for real ager. He tilted his head again that way he always did, and turned both of them in a circle, twice, as if he wanted to say: _Well, what will you do now?_ Ludwig showed off his best unimpressed look and waited. _Why, what will y o u do?_  
At some point it was pitch black dark outside, and hardly anyone danced anymore except for them. Alfred let go of Ludwig’s hands, sweaty, his hair sticking up in all directions. He licked his lips, huffed, and punched Ludwig’s side playfully. Ludwig tried to look more self-composed, but he was just as out of breath as Alfred was.  
This was better than war. It was fun.

1989

Ludwig couldn’t believe it when he heard the radio programme announce the news. Watched the evening programme for five minutes, then he stood up, shrugging on his coat while running. Ludwig took the fastest train to Berlin.

It was evening now. Gilbert had pressed Ludwig to his side, murmured into his ear how happy he was. „Hey, little brother. Behave. Do you want anyone here to see you cry, hmm?”

He hadn’t let Ludwig go. They had stayed together, still stunned, and accepted a glass of champagne by passerbys and another one and watched their people dance on the wall. He felt the arm of his brother around him and only now he felt how much he had truly missed his brother, never mind their fights they used to have sometimes… Ludwig had still been waiting for the situation to just dissolve before his eyes. He had waited for someone to tell him that all of this was simply a misunderstanding and they all would have to go back to their places – it had indeed been a misunderstanding, all of this, he learned later, but it was too late now. No one would go back. The first time ever since a century ago, Gilbert had been the one to take Ludwig’s arm and lead him, offering the confused border guards champagne, calming down the people who believed they would have to go back home once this crazy night was over, and sometime when it was nighttime and dark and they didn’t have any idea how late it was, Gilbert had finally let go of Ludwig’s arm and told him that he’d have to go “and take care of my politicians, and make Comrade Watercane stay where he is, you do the same with your people!”. “Oh goodness”, Ludwig said, and Gilbert laughed a little drunk and said “Mmmh” and that was the moment they both knew: if this wasn’t just a short, crazy episode, then it was not the Happy end, but it was a new beginning.

When it was dawn again, Ludwig was back at the wall, where things had taken on a much more controlled fashion, and in the humid, cool morning air, where the first people started to just tear this everlasting wall down in their minds and in reality, Gilbert was already there waiting for him.

 

The Schöneberg town hall had probably heard some of the most grand verdicts of the last decades, both Kennedy’s “Ich bin ein Berliner” and Willy Brandt’s „Winds of Change that blow through Europe“.

The wall was open.

All this was way too official for Ludwig’s taste. Gilbert stood next to him, much thinner than before, but his obnoxious grin had hardly paled. They stood in a sea of suits and ties. The chancellor was delivering a speech, many others were waiting to deliver their speeches, and both brothers knew that things would go on. They could both not say how, especially Gilbert couldn’t, but it was true: the winds of change were blowing again. Until the signatures would be done, the Allies still held “the responsibility for Germany”, so they also stood near the podium, even though they were hidden by the mass of people, just like Gilbert and Ludwig. Just another six men who wouldn’t be noticeable on any photo that was taken. Alfred grinned at Ludwig and waved.

This was all about politics. Ludwig was happy that Alfred planned on staying regardless. In the evening Alfred was dancing with them, and even though Berlin preferred doing Hip Hop and the Macarena and the tango more than anything else, Ludwig recognized Alfred’s idiosyncratic way of stepping.

That was how Ludwig brought Alfred to his hotel. Something about Alfred’s low, melodious whistling while they strolled down the calm, light-flooded streets of Berlin calmed Ludwig. He didn’t need long to recognize the melody.

_I follow the Moskva_

_down to Gorky park_

The American seemed absentminded. His eyes wandered into dark alleyways, to the night sky and hardly looked at their way. The melody sounded of a quiet longing – like an empty autumn street in Moscow, where an icy wind coming from the freezing Moscva brushed past.

_And I’m listening to the wind_

_of change._

Ludwig was surpised to see that Alfred knew the song at all. And he couldn’t help feeling that Alfred was whistling the melody for him. When they went around a corner, they could hear the faint music from a café, playing jazz. A Charleston.

It was the Charleston that had started it for Ludwig.


End file.
